


In The Details

by Mistystarshine



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Episode Related, F/M, Family?, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Maes survives, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, a bunch of characters later on but I'm not tagging them yet, au after episode 10, humor might appear later possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistystarshine/pseuds/Mistystarshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killing the man named Maes Hughes seemed simple in theory. But sometimes even the simplest of things can be messed up, and thanks to a few tiny details Envy fails horribly in his attempt to end the man. Even the most seemingly powerful systems can be fragile at the core, and a few long hidden memories combined with a failed attempt at murder may be enough to make this one splinter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: Okay, I just wanted to let you know that this writing style likely will not be used for most of the chapters of this fic. This is my odd not really any point of view (although we do jump into Envy point of view a bit but… not much) voiceover-ish type style that I use for prologues and such. Comments and the like are always welcome, and I would like to apologize ahead of time for any spelling or grammatical errors. I’d also like to say that chapters as a whole will generally be quite a bit longer than this. Again, prologue. For those that are curious while the AU does largely follow brotherhood I will be taking certain aspects from the ’03 anime, aspects that will become glaringly obvious as they show up. Essentially this is a bit of a ripple-effect type fic where I change one thing and the pretty much everything changes around it. Well, one thing and aspects.
> 
> Anyway, that’s enough rambling for now. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist on any way, shape, or form.

It really was amazing how tiny, seemingly insignificant things could turn around and change everything. Say a girl has a mole on her cheek. Although people will notice it, maybe comment on it once or twice, it likely won’t be anything truly important in the long run. It will be one of the features of her face that people are used to. The presence of a mole surely would not be able to have any lasting effect on the world around it.

 

Except for when it does.

 

Little details like this are things that people tend to take for granted. They will look at that face and some part of them, so far in the back of their mind that they likely wouldn’t notice it, will expect to see that mole. But the thing about details, things that we don’t pay too much attention to, is that they can become so glaringly obvious when you look and see that they are gone. Even though someone may not have paid any attention to that mole before the fact remains that it is part of the face, and so when they look at it and see that it is not there that tiny part of their mind, the part that always noticed the mole, will shout out that something is wrong.

 

When a man by the name of Maes Hughes found himself confronted by a stranger he would have thought her to be Maria Ross were it not for the absence of that mole on her cheek, just below her eye. Things got stranger than that simple lack of a mole, much to his bewilderment and horror when he pointed it out and the imposter, whatever it may truly be, touched it’s fingers to the spot and made the mole appear. One would think that the sudden appearance of the missing mark would capture and hold all of his attention. Yet at the moment the gun the imposter currently held and was pointing at him was posing quite the challenge to the seemingly impossible action.

 

Of course there were other little details that we might not think matter until they did. Only sometimes no one would ever know that these details mattered or why they did, no one would ever quite realize what an impact they had on their life. A picture would be the perfect example of this. A picture showing a family, the family of a man cornered by a shapeshifter with a gun, a picture that would have given a perfect way to mess with the man. A picture that, when the man had been rooting through his pocket a moment earlier, never fell out. Neither shapeshifter nor the man in the phone booth were aware of this one detail and the potential it had to change so much.

 

Maybe it was cockiness that made Envy remain still for that moment while in the form of Second Lieutenant Maria Ross without taking a shot. After all, even if he was idiotic enough to try and fight, a miserable human such as the one before him would not be able to best him. Maybe he just wanted to have a bit more of a fight than taking a single shot. For all that one bullet had been able to cause the spiral that was Ishval he doubted that the death of this man would cause anything quite as dramatic. Besides, things had been so _boring_ lately, it seemed all the real excitement had been left in Liore and the now-destroyed Laboratory Five. Even if it wasn’t much a brief struggle would be better than nothing.

 

In the future he wouldn’t be able to remember the exact reason for his standing still in the form of the Lieutenant. Not that it stood much of a chance of stopping him from fabricating a likely unpleasant answer.

 

What happened next? It was bullshit. He could have used more eloquent language, maybe call it a lapse of judgment or underestimating his opponent, but in that moment Envy was fairly certain that the best term for it was _bullshit._ Hughes lunged forward with his knife despite the fact that he was moving toward someone that now looked _exactly_ , and would have looked exactly the whole time if not for that damned mole, one of his co-workers. So this human seemed to have some guts despite the overly sappy talk about his ‘family’ from seconds earlier. Not that he cared. No, he cared that despite all the crap he had seen over the years of his existence, despite _knowing_ that even if the knife hit he would heal almost instantly, those pesky things called instincts made him dodge. He fired of course, he fired his gun and aimed to kill, but that slight movement was enough to change the trajectory of the bullet slightly. While it was not so much that the intended target wasn’t hit it was enough that rather than hitting his organs or, you know, somewhere _deadly_ the man was shot near his shoulder.

 

Envy froze as the man staggered back and to the ground, gripping his shoulder. It was not guilt or anything of the like that he felt. Instead fear managed to get a grip on the sin for a moment. He had missed, he had taken the shot and he _missed_. Sure the human was on the ground near the phone booth but the fact remained that the shot may not be deadly. If it wasn’t… then they might have a slight situation on their hands. _Or at least you might,_ some voice in the back of his mind gleefully taunted him. His response was to violently shove the thought away and aim the gun and Hughes once again. This time he would not miss. They couldn’t afford to have him miss.

 

It may have gone swimmingly if no one had seen the man who currently had the gun pointed at his head. Alas, Maes Hughes had indeed been spotted as he staggered out to the phone booth with a bleeding arm. When someone sees someone that appears to be rather frightened desperately seeking a phone they tend to ask questions. Not to mention that gunshots were loud and tended to attract quite a bit of attention, attention that made anyone who may have been nearby approach like moths to a flame. His hesitation, short as it was, was comprised of precious seconds wasted. As he pointed the gun at the man’s head he heard rapid footsteps coming from not so far away combined with shouts, not to mention the figures he could see approaching. There was a slight noise emanating from the phone currently dangling from its cord, signifying that someone was on the other end even though no one was currently responding.

 

For all that homunculi claimed to be superior to humans and their emotions even they were not completely immune to the things. As it happened fear was a very human emotion, or perhaps it was merely a universal emotion. Either way he could feel it coming over him in a massive wave, threatening to pull him under. In that moment he made what might have been one of the worst decisions of his life. In a moment of fear, not from the possibility of getting caught itself but having missed that first shot, what some of the others might do if he not only failed to kill Maes Hughes but was also seen or even captured (not that he would ever admit to considering that a possibility, not that he would admit to having felt anything even vaguely resembling fear) seeming to override his senses, including that glorious thing called common sense, Envy turned around and ran.

 

On that day Envy failed.

 

On that day Maes Hughes survived.

 

All because of a couple of tiny details.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First there was pain. And then there was more. This chapter includes references to gore and a certain amount of cursing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I would like to apologize for taking so long to update. Some real life stuff came up in the form of my wisdom teeth needing to be removed and the general hassle that follows when ones wisdom teeth are removed and complications arise. But! I am here now and update-bound. I’d like to thank you very much for the positive reviews I have received, the follows, and the favorites. I sincerely hope that you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist in any way, shape, or form.

It’s a peculiar sensation, the feeling that you just cheated death. Like an adrenaline rush but with a whole new appreciation for life your continued ability to draw air into your lungs. You just made a risky gamble but managed to turn the game around at the list minute. It may seem like naive terminology to say that one ‘cheated death’. After all, life and death isn’t some sort of game that you can cheat at by peeking at another player’s cards or swapping in an extra piece that you weren’t meant to have. Although some might argue that many people did just that. Wasn’t that what alchemy was in a way? Many argued that humans weren’t meant to be able to mould stone into something else entirely just by pressing their hands against a fancy circle. As a matter of fact that very matter was the cause of quite a bit of controversy. Surely if that really was the case and alchemy really was cheating then a Philosopher’s Stone must be throwing away the rules entirely.

The first thought to enter Maes’ mind that wasn’t a string of hazy puzzling and philosophy was, _man, if I can be having internal debates then I must have come out better than I thought._ A faint sense of amusement washed over him.

Alas, the pleasant feeling was not allowed to stay no matter how welcome it was at the moment. Instead of lingering it faded away like drops of dew under a sun made of potential country-wide annihilation to be replaced with a sense of urgency. His eyes, which had been closed as he slowly emerged from the brief bliss that was unconsciousness, snapped open as the more important things going on at the moment began to trickle into his mind. The first thing they saw was a painfully large expanse of white. Not just any white, the whitest white to ever white, the kind of white that put snow to same, a white so white that it could never be found in nature. _Sanitation white_.

Waking up in a hospital wasn’t an entirely new experience for Maes Hughes. Sure, it hadn’t happened to him quite as often as some more accident-prone members of the military but he had had his moments. Most of these moments were related to thoroughly unpleasant memories that he tried not to linger on too often, not because of the memory of the pain but because of the guilt he feared might swallow him whole should he let it. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like he should be able to forget his role in Ishbal, however small it may have been it was grand scheme of things. It wasn’t as if he deserved to forget. But when it came down to it lingering on it would only prevent him from moving forward, and if he allowed that to happen his eyes might as well have never opened those other times in hospitals. When he looked back he could not allow himself to linger in guilt for too long. No, those faint glimpses of the past were only to be used to take lessons from. Like the importance that he tell Roy exactly what was going on lest it lead to another Ishbal. And how that painfully blank shade of white was largely only found in hospitals.

Maes attempted to sit up, although the action of ‘sitting up’ resembled a rushed lurch more than anything. A lurch that his body would be having absolutely none of because no matter how much he needed to tell Roy that everyone currently living in Amestris was currently inside a giant transmutation circle _bullet wounds will mess you up_. Things like that took a little time to heal, and a little time definitely entailed more than the eighteen hours he had been up. The sudden movement made a burst of pain surging through his shoulder and the area around it with a vengeance strong enough that he momentarily felt like it might as well have a pulse. He gritted his teeth and let out a quiet hiss of pain, the hand connected to his currently uninjured arm clenching on his sheets. Normally if he had any sort of wound, let alone one made by a bullet, he would try to milk it for all it was worth and relax as much as possible. Unfortunately for him the current circumstances made it impossible for this to count as ‘normally’.

It was then that a nurse hurriedly rushed into his room, opening the door with a slightly panicked air. Many people still thought of a woman when one used the term ‘nurse’. That would be a mistake in this case for the individual before him was certainly a man, albeit a young one. As he continued his epic rush to his bedside, hands waving in a hyperactive flurry that he might have thought would somehow make him look more serious, the nurse cried, “sir! Are you alright? You shouldn’t be making any quick movements, not this long after the initial incident.” Somewhere in the back of his mind Maes knew that this nurse, J. Warrens judging by his nametag, was likely recently hired judging by his age and might end up losing his job if he made too big a mix-up. At the moment he was fairly certain that releasing a recently shot patient, particularly one that had stumbled across things that Mr. Warrens likely had no way of knowing of, might upset some very important people.

But at the moment he was also completely confident that in the grand scheme of things there were more important things on the line than one man’s job.

He wouldn’t demand to use a phone or call for visitors, given his current location there was a painfully likely chance that doing such a thing would yield no positive results in the long run. No, he had to get out of this place as soon as possible. So Maes proceeded to tell the young nurse so, and just as expected said nurse began to protest. Thus began a process of trickery that he would later look back on in pride, involving some well placed words, phone calls that never happened, a phone call to a ‘reference’ that was merely Jean Havoc putting on a dress, and one unfortunate nurse’s assumed inexperience in both working at this particular hospital and dealing with Maes Hughes turning out to be a painful reality.

Within an hour Maes was rapidly making his way out of the hospital. Within two the man known as J. Warrens, one who would not play a significant role in events to come other than this little detail, found himself job hunting.

 

**~.~.~.~.~.~**

 

What is the definition of the righteous man?

Most of the time if asked that question Envy would say that he had no fucking idea. It would likely be accompanied by questions such as, ‘why the hell are you asking me?’ or ‘do I look like I want to talk about _philosophy_ with you?’ There was a decent chance that he might send himself into a bit of a rage at a perceived insult and whoever thought that it might, for whatever warped reason, be a good idea to ask Envy that question would likely end up regretting it.

Right now though, _right in this very moment_ , he might have a different answer if asked that same question. That answer would be, ‘not fucking _Pride_.’ And yes, the overuse of expletives was necessary in both situations for it was too frustrating a situation for him to be all polite and shit.

Plus he was currently staggering through an alley, or at least he thought it was an alley, in somewhere that he was pretty sure was still central, feeling half dead, while that disjointed train of thought ran through his head in an attempt to distract himself from the pain. When it was a choice between focusing on the horrific amounts of pain he was in and going on a mental rant about Pride the rant would win every time. There really were no words to properly express just how much he hated pain. He was more than alright with inflicting pain on others, in fact he often found himself getting a burst of joy out of it. But when turned around and directed at him it absolutely sucked. Some might believe this to be hypocritical as well as sadistic. He really couldn’t care less.

The rambling stream of thought rushing through his mind, mostly vitriol aimed at Pride and his other siblings, would occasionally flicker as something more important pressed through. Every step he took felt like a thousand over sharp glass, as overdramatic it may sound. It even hurt to _breathe_. Not that he absolutely _needed_ to breathe all the time, it would surely take a long time for his stone to wear out by the means of suffocation, but it was still another discomfort that he didn’t want to have to deal with. Then every now and then there was something else, something trying to push to the surface of his mind only to be forced back by the other factors at play. It was that little detail that was currently registering the lowest on his scale of important things.

In truth there would be no clear physical damage if one looked at Envy. He looked disheveled, exhausted, and not very clean, but he didn’t appear to be suffering from any severe wound like his movements might suggest. One would have to look deeper if they wanted to find out what was wrong with the homunculus, past the body and into the stone. Anyone that knew what homunculi were and what their bodies were made of would know that the stone was the center of their being, their life force. At the moment he felt as if someone had taken an ice pick to said life force and began to break it into little pieces. Which… wasn’t very inaccurate when compared to what had actually happened.

\-------------

_It wasn’t long after his failed attempt on the life of Maes Hughes that Envy felt Pride following him. It wasn’t that his ‘brother’ said anything or that he could actually see him. No, he knew that the eldest homunculus was there by the way the hairs stood up on the back of his neck and a feeling unease crept along his spine. Even if they were both homunculi and both on the same side the shadow-monster of a being still managed to creep him out._

_“Father will not be pleased,” his would-be stalker stated once he was half-way through his trek back to their lair. Step above a sewage system. Glorified spider nest. The dank and dreary place they resided that smelled a little too awful for his taste._

_The words caused the shape shifter to let out an amused snort. “Really? I thought he’d be absolutely thrilled. Always was a bit of a family man, you know.” He didn’t know why exactly he had made the attempt at humor. Maybe it was to get some sort of reading of the situation. Surely if Pride showed any hint of being amused or even laughed by some miracle his situation wasn’t that bad. Yet despite his efforts the shadow homunculus remained silent as the grave and his feeling of dread managed to grow if anything. That was when it came trickling in. Fear. The fear he had been repressing, fear of what Father would do to him, fear for what it could mean that the Lieutenant Colonel remained alive. Fear and desperation. It was out of this that he added in a low voice, “Father doesn’t have to know. I can go back and kill the man once the crowd’s cleared, make it nice and quick, no playing around next time. We can just pretend this never happened.”_

_That wasn’t completely true. Lust would know, she had known what the plan was if Hughes somehow managed to get past her and would be well aware that Envy had failed at his first attempt. It didn’t matter though. She wouldn’t throw him to Father, he was certain of it. How many times had she covered up for Gluttony when the buffoon screwed up? Heck, how many times had she helped him in the past, maybe even some minor saving, even if he didn’t like admitting it to himself? Lust would go along with whatever he told Father. Later on she was certain to tear him a new one, sure, but she wouldn’t betray him._

_Unfortunately Pride was not Lust. The eldest’s voice took on a higher pitch as he cried, “what you suggest is on par with treason, to suggest lying to father!” With those words a feeling of finality formed in the shapeshifter. That was it then, he wasn’t going to let him have a second chance, he wasn’t going to be awarded the opportunity to fix on tiny fucking mistake before Father was alerted because of Pride’s dog-like loyalty. For something that was meant to be the living incarnation of it he couldn’t help but feel that he had very little of it._

_Despite his situation he couldn’t help but throw a barb. Even if it wasn’t the wisest thing to do it felt right. He was cornered, and some people tended to lash out when they find themselves with their back against a wall, let alone two. “I should have figured,” he snarled, “you’ve always been the perfect little daddy’s boy after all.”_

_Pride did not bother to respond. Instead he felt his presence vanish for a moment, a brief moment during which Envy considered running. Something that would turn out to be a pointless effort at best. After all, this one could be anywhere there are shadows and it was night in a city. All he could do was wait and curse everything. Thankfully Pride, being the incredibly thoughtful not-person he was, returned before three minutes had passed. “I have spoken to Father,” he stated in a tone that Envy thought might just have a tiny pinch of pleasure in it. Or just rising bloodlust. “You will not need to return to your quarters.”_

_That in itself was quite the alarm bell. Or at least it would have been if he had had time to consider the words. Instead Pride lunged, a blade of shadow plunging at his chest and slashing at his stone._

_\-------------_

That was where things got fuzzy. How he got away from Pride he wasn’t sure, why Pride didn’t immediately hunt him down he wasn’t sure, why Father didn’t just reabsorb him he wasn’t sure. It was all stuff that he would set aside to ponder at a later time. Much later, like when he didn’t feel like it was about to die. Shit, he felt like he was about to die. Envy wasn’t someone who tended to spend a lot of time thinking about death but he did know that he absolutely hated the idea. The mystery of it all both sickened him and, in some part so deeply ingrained that it was practically molecular, frightened him. Or maybe he wouldn’t die. Maybe it would be something worse. Images of his true form flashed before his eyes, tiny and ugly and helpless and weak. Somehow even the disgusting mystery that was death seemed appealing when compared to the idea of being stuck like that.

Homunculi weren’t creatures that got exhausted very often, Envy even less so due to how he tried to avoid physical confrontation. Tried and failed much more often than he would have preferred. Due to this he certainly wasn’t used to the warning signs that said he was about to pass out. As much as walking, or staggering in a zombie-like fashion in his case, hurt he didn’t like the idea of stopping and allowing Pride to catch up with him. Had he been a little more lucid he likely would have realized that if the oldest homunculus really was chasing him he would have been caught long ago given his current state. As it was part of his brain was still yelling that he was in a epic race of life or death.

The body, even that of a homunculus, just wasn’t meant to take some things though. Whatever Pride had done to him definitely counted as one of those things that a body wasn’t meant to endure. That was why the edges of his vision began to darken and he legs, which already felt a bit like trying to walk with a pair of soggy noodles, began to ignore his commands completely. A hiss of pain managed to leave him as he leaned against the wall, his left hand pressing against slightly damp brick. Slowly and definitely not out of his own choice the homunculus of envy slid down the wall.

The last thought that could be considered even slightly lucid to pass through his mind before he blacked out completely was, _fuck Pride_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I’d like to apologize for the relative shortness of this chapter. Secondly I’d like to apologize if it comes off as a little disjointed, it was written over a period of time and through several stages of sick. I like to blame that for some of the more… interesting lines that popped up in there. Like the one that used the word ‘white’ about fifty times. Anyway, I promise you that there is a reason for what Pride did despite it potentially not making any sense at first. All will be revealed in time, likely a time when one of the only people who knows about it isn’t metaphorically bleeding out from a freaky soul stone. Also, this is largely unrelated but I am accepting prompts for FMA, just be sure to read the guidelines on my freshly update profile.


End file.
